


Good Intentions

by Thighkyuu



Category: Marvel, X-Men, xmen - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 09:38:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16851652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thighkyuu/pseuds/Thighkyuu
Summary: "Peter is depressed about the whole “ Erik would not accept me as his son” thing, so the reader (who has the power to paralyse people momentarily) goes to Erik, tells him everything while explicitly threatening him to not hurt Peter in any way. Peter overhears the conversation, bursts out and shouts at the reader for dealing with his business. Reader tries to explain, fails at it and runs away." - requested by sygin on tumblr





	1. Part 1

You loved Peter Maximoff.

    You were unsure of exactly when you started to love him, couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment when you went from thinking of him as your best friend to thinking of him in a way best friends certainly don’t think about each other. You thought about the way his eyes sparkled when he told a joke, the way his smile was contagious and never failed to make your heart rate speed up. You thought about how he was always able to make you smile, always able to make sure you felt better. And then there was his incorrigible flirting. You weren’t the only one he flirted with, you knew that, but it still made you flush, made your heart swell with increasing affection.

    You’d deemed your own feelings for him hopeless, as it was unlikely you’d ever end up together, but that didn’t seem to stop you from caring for him deeply. It was that care for him that landed you in your current predicament, set you on your current path.

    Ever since the Apocalypse incident, Peter had begun to fret more and more over Erik Lehnsherr, his father. It had started small, with Peter wondering whether or not he should even tell Erik, wondering if he did tell Erik, how to tell him. Then it had grown, the small cloud of anxiety transforming into a massive thunderhead of chaos. Whether or not to tell Erik became “what if, if I do tell him, he doesn’t accept me as his son?” He was spiraling into an abyss of anxiety and depression, and you were unable to do much more than be there for him and watch. You hated, absolutely despised, seeing him this way. It hurt your heart to see him hurt over a man who didn’t deserve him as a son.

    Then, one day, you decided to do something about it. You were sick of seeing Peter suffer, and you felt you could solve the whole thing with a single conversation. You thought. Looking back, you hadn’t really thought at all - at least, not about anyone’s feelings but your own - but it was too late to go back and change it.

    You’d come up with a plan, considering only how it might succeed and not how it might fail.

    And fail it had.

    It had crashed and burned so hard that the only thing left was ashes.

    You had sought out Erik, using your power to temporarily paralyze people’s bodies to make sure he listened. To make sure he didn’t disregard you. During the confrontation, you’d revealed it all: Peter’s struggle to decide whether or not to reveal his status, his worry over how to broach the subject, his anxiety over the fact that he might not be accepted by his father. The fact that his father was Erik. You told Erik that Peter deserved a father who cared, threatened him.

“If you so much as harm a hair on his head, put a crack into his spirit, dent his soul, there will be no place on Earth you can hide from me.” You’d glared daggers, been fearless in the face of Erik. You were attempting to protect one of the people you cared for most, after all. And that’s when it had all come crashing down.

“Y/N, what the _fuck!”_  Peter’s voice had been a roar as he revealed himself, his eyes ablaze with more anger than you’d ever seen in him. It startled you enough that your mind had gone blank, and you lost all focus as you turned to face him. “Who gave you the right to meddle in  _my_  business!?”

“I…” you trailed off, unable to think of anything in the face of Peter’s anger. You wanted to look anywhere but him, but you were unable to tear your eyes away. “I didn’t think-”

 _“Clearly!_  It’s not  _your_  place to handle  _my_  shit, Y/N, especially this!” He gestures to Erik, still standing behind you. You’d cringed away from him, from his yelling.

“Peter,” you’d choked out, “I just wanted-”

“What?” Peter had spat the words, crossing his arms. “What did _you want_  enough to do this?”

“For you to be happy.” Your voice had been barely a whisper, but it was loud enough for him to hear. He’d scoffed, shaking his head, trying not to laugh. Not out of happiness, but because he was so angry.

“Well,” the tone of his voice was flat, dead, “what a fine job you’ve done of that.” You’d blinked back tears at that, physically recoiling. Peter had been angry, shouted at you, before, but he’d never been cruel. Not ever.

    You’d stared at Peter for a moment after that, then taken off, running as far and as fast as you could away from the mansion. Even when your calves began to cramp, when your feet slamming onto the ground sent painful shockwaves through you, when the wind tore painfully at your face, you kept going. You’d fucked up horribly, and you weren’t sure there was a way to come back from it. You shouldn’t have meddled, you realized that now. After all, the road to hell was paved with good intentions.

    It all lead you to where you were now: sitting in a coffee shop far away from the Xavier Institute, your head in your hands. You’d been there about an hour, and in that time a barista who noticed your condition had taken pity on you and brought you some coffee. You’d thanked her, still holding back tears. You refused to cry. You’d made this mess, and now you had to figure out if there was a way to clean it up.

    You took a shaky breath, sipped the coffee, and sank down into your chair. There was only one thing you could do, you decided, and slipped your phone from your pocket. You had several missed calls from various people, none of which, you noted, were Peter. You took another deep breath and called Scott, hoping he picked up. He was one of your closer friends outside of Peter, and you hoped you could count on him now.

“Y/N?” His voice rang from the phone speakers, riddled with concern. “Where the  _hell_  have you been? Where are you? What-”

“Scott,” you cut across him quietly, “can you come pick me up?”

“Of course, but I need to know where you are.” You listed off your location, only to be met with stunned silence. “You…  _ran_  all that way?”

“It’s a long story.”

“So I imagine,” he said, “I’ll be there soon.” You thanked him, hanging up the phone and slipping it back into your pocket. There was only one thing to do, and you steeled yourself as you waited for Scott to arrive. You would apologize. That was the only thing you could do, and whether or not Peter accepted the apology or not was just something you would have to face.

    The road to hell was paved with good intentions, and now you would have to suffer the consequences of those good intentions whether you liked the outcome or not.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resolution for Part 1

At first, Scott hadn’t asked any questions.

    He’d simply stared at you as you got in the car, and you figured that was because you looked like an absolute mess. You knew the questions were coming, though. There was no way in hell you were going to get out of this without explaining it all to Scott, especially since you practically vanished from the mansion for a couple of hours. Apparently, most everyone had been worried sick, and you wondered vaguely why Charles hadn’t used Cerebro. It had been rebuilt, after all. Maybe he had used Cerebro. Maybe he’d seen what was going on in your mind and decided to give you time to figure out your next course of action. Any way you looked at it, this wasn’t going to go smoothly.

“So,” Scott began, glancing over at you before flicking his eyes back to the road, “are you going to tell me about it?” You took in a deep breath, tilting your head back and resting it on the seat headrest.

“I did something incredibly stupid thinking it was something helpful and now I’m in deep shit.”

“Let me guess, it has something to do with the reason why when we asked Peter where you were he said ‘I don’t know, and I don’t fucking care’?”

“Yeah,” you mutter, closing your eyes. “I told Erik.” The silence after those words seemed to stretch an eternity. “I threatened him, too.” You figure you might as well make sure Scott knows that, too.

“Y/N-” his voice holds something like shock and disappointment, you think.

“I know,” you groan, “trust me, I realize what a stupid, stupid move that was.” You stare up at the sky, watching the clouds go by as Scott drives. “I have so much apologizing to do. And that’s assuming he even lets me speak to him, much less be in the same room as him.” Neither of you say anything for a while after that, and the silence was heavy on your shoulders.

“Well,” Scott began slowly, “I would think that, after he cools down and works through it all, he’ll be grateful. But that’s just what I think, it’s not a guarantee, and knowing Peter, it’ll take a while for him to reach that point. I think that because it’s you, and you’re so close to him, that’s why he reacted so badly. I mean, he would’ve reacted badly either way, but you’re someone he trusts, and in his eyes you’ve broken that trust.” He’s talking so quickly you can barely keep up, which is unusual for Scott. Maybe he’s afraid he’ll say something wrong, you aren’t sure. “But I also think that because you’re you, he might forgive you, I mean, the two of you have been practically inseparable since you met, right?” You nodded absentmindedly, processing Scott’s words.

    You could see the logic in what he was saying, but you didn’t see how Peter could possibly forgive you. You’d meddled in his business, stuck your nose where it decidedly did not belong, and broken his trust. The fact that Erik was his father was a secret kept from Erik, and you’d exposed it with barely a second thought.

    The remainder of your ride back to the mansion was quiet save for the sound of the wind, but when you arrived at the mansion, you found yourself reluctant to get out of the car. You took a deep breath, placing your hand on the door handle. You could feel the tension from all the way out where you were, and you were loathing the thought of trying to talk to Peter. Steeling your resolve, you managed to get out of the car. You had to apologize, you needed to. If you wanted Peter to at least consider forgiving you, you had to apologize.

You needn’t have worried about apologizing.

    Much to your dismay, Peter took it upon himself to avoid you as much as possible, for as long as possible. In fact, you only saw glimpses of him for a solid week and a half. Not that you blamed him for avoiding you, but you were getting tired of the whole thing. How were you supposed to let him know you regretted what you did if he didn’t let you apologize? It was, honestly, frustrating.

    It didn’t occur to you until a few days later that you had powers. And that those powers were to temporarily paralyze people. And that this could be used to make sure that Peter listened to your apology. He may not even want your apology, you knew that, but you had to try. Fortunately for you - and unfortunately for Peter, you supposed - you knew exactly where to find him.

    As you were walking toward the library, which, oddly enough, is one of the places Peter prefers to hang out in when he needs time to think, you spotted him moving slowly down the hall, which was odd enough in and of itself. Unfortunately, he saw you as well, and turned to bolt.

    You threw your hand out in Peter’s direction, focusing your ability, and Peter froze on the spot, paralyzed. You were tired of this, tired of him not listening. You realized that this was the exact attitude that had gotten you into this mess, but nothing was going to get solved if the two of you simply kept avoiding each other.

“Listen,” you said, approaching Peter to stand in front of the immobile Peter, “I’m not expecting you to forgive me, okay, but I wanted to apologize. I was way out of line, and I wasn’t thinking about how my actions and you have every right to be furious with me. Forgive me or don’t - and I wouldn’t blame you if you never forgave me - I just wanted to make sure you knew that I’m sorry, and you were not going to know that if you kept avoiding me.” You looked away, stepping aside as you released Peter from your powers’ hold. He stumbled a bit, everyone did after being released from your power’s grip, trying to get his balance back. He glanced over at you, scratching his arm absentmindedly.

“Y/N, I’m not mad at you. Well, not anymore.” You head snapped up at his words, your eyes meeting his.

“Then why? Why run?”

“I said some pretty shitty things to you when I was angry-”

“They were very justified,” you point out, cutting across him. He shook his head slightly.

“Justified or no, they were cruel, and no matter how mad I was at you, I shouldn’t have hurt you like that.” He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face and averting his eyes. “I suppose I avoided you because I thought you wouldn’t want to see me after I said all that.” You stared at him in shock, eyes wide.

“I  _exposed you_  to your  _father_  and you thought  _I_  wouldn’t want to see  _you?”_  He laughed nervously, looking back at you.

“Yeah, a bit.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Besides, I can’t be mad at you for long, especially in this case. I’m not condoning what you did,” he says, “‘cuz it was all kinds of wrong, but… it turned out good.”

“So you and Erik…?”

“We’ve been talking. It’s awkward, but it’s something.” You gave him a small grin.

“I’m glad it’s going well, Pete.” The two of you stood there a moment, unsure of yourselves. “Well,” you started, but Peter was ahead of you.

“So… can we both agree we were stupid assholes and go get lunch? It’s so boring without you around.” You nodded, and you both stood there a moment longer, despite having decided to go get lunch.

“I can’t believe you thought I would be mad at you,” you grinned, amused. Peter flushed, narrowing his eyes.

“You-” At the moment Peter went to talk, however, Scott walked by, holding up a hand as he passed.

“If the two of you argue again right now, I’m not driving out to get whoever runs off this time.” With that, he kept walking, and the two of you watched the back of his head disappear down the hallway. You knew he was joking, and that made it all the more funny when you considered his exasperated tone. You and Peter looked at each other, glanced back at where you’d last seen Scott, and began to laugh.

    The two of you would be okay, you were sure. The road to hell may be paved with good intentions, but weren’t on that road just yet.


End file.
